Follow Me into the Darkness
by Nervous.Laugh
Summary: 'Please,' I whisper, voice cracking painfully. The rain cascades down to earth, mixing with the tears that run relentlessly down my face. All is quiet, the only image is that of a girl, sobbing silently, curled into a ball, horror etched upon her face.
1. Prologue

_To the extent of my admittedly limited knowledge, the Twilight series belongs solely to Stephenie Meyer._

**Follow Me into the Darkness**

Isabella Swan slipped on her deep red coat. It wasn't a particularly fashionable piece, the sleeves slightly too short, the collar stiff, sticking up at an odd angle. It was worn in places, faded around the elbows. But it was her coat, damn it, and she was going to wear it if she wanted to.  
She smiled down at the dark wash jeans, pulled tightly around her hips. They were comfortable and inconspicuous, her black sneakers much the same.

Isabella didn't give much thought to the clothes that she was going to wear that day. Maybe if she knew then what was going to happen, she would have headed towards something brighter, clearer, more noticeable.

But she never planned to get knocked off her bicycle, and so she didn't head towards the daffodil-yellow shirt, the lime green joggers, the sunset-orange skirt.

Isabella didn't realise, whilst pulling her cream helmet on, shutting the screen-door behind her and stepping out onto the street, that there was a chance that she would be closing her eyes for the final time in just a few moments.

Isabella Swan didn't realise this, so she didn't bother buckling her helmet securely around her chin.

Isabella didn't realise this, and now, of course, it's too late.

* * *

Edward Masen swore loudly as he glanced up at the stainless-steel clock, analogue, hanging above his oven.  
Edward was going to be late for the fourth time this week. It wasn't so much that he was tardy, more the fact that for the fourth time this week the milk had turned sour. And without his morning coffee, Edward's body failed to function.

Edward Anthony Masen, Edward by his friends, Mr E. A. Masen by his colleagues, was quite a pretentious man. Tennis with the boys every Saturday morning, a painful, twenty minute phone-call with the parents every second Monday, compulsory by law, and a celebratory drink every Friday, five o'clock on the dot. Edward deserved this drink for no other reason than for the fact that he was Edward, and Edward got what he wanted, no exceptions.

Edward Masen fastened his tie, took one final gulp of his now luke-warm coffee, before marching out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Edward didn't realise, as he slipped the black seat-belt around his waist, that being late to work was, on occasion, fatal.

Edward didn't realise, as he turned the ignition, that by pure coincidence a lovely young lady would be cycling in precisely the same area that Edward intended on speeding through.

Edward had no reason to realise this, and so he didn't. And, of course, it's too late now.


	2. Through Pain We Meet

_Stephenie Meyer owns all._

_**Follow Me into the Darkness**_

**Bella:**

I stood in the middle of the pavement, face turned towards the sky, basking in the morning light. I let the warmth trickle over my body as I inhaled. The air danced in a cloud – crisp and fresh. The yellow of the apartment behind me cast an odd glow upon the grey cement. I smiled up at the family of birds, singing loudly in the old maple.

And I thought to myself: _'it's quite brilliant to be alive.'_

My bicycle was chained to the front steps, gleaming proudly in the sunlight. My bike was a beautiful, deep blue. I chose it because it reminded me of the sky; it reminded me of the endless summers, the cool nights and excruciatingly tiresome days. It reminded me of the fluffy, bouncy clouds that would fly across the wide expanse of marine. My bike, it reminded me of freedom.

I smiled to myself as I swung my leg onto the pedal, warming my legs up. _'Today's going to be a good one,'_ I thought to myself. Perhaps I should have touched wood before I left; maybe I should have done a quick prayer or caught the bus. But I didn't, and it's certainly too late now.

Because now, now I'm stuck in this endless blackness. This endless monotony of pain and hurt and grief.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply in again. Laughing once, letting the chords shimmer through the air, I began my journey, the road smooth beneath my tires, the greenery flashing past as I picked up speed. The breeze tangled itself through my hair, throwing the locks out behind me. I was flying.

I tore through the narrow backstreets, my heart thumping powerfully against my rib-cage, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The sun disappeared quietly as I slipped behind the old, dirty buildings, the red-brown bricks chipped, covered in grime, the windows taped up crudely. I came crashing back to earth as the blue expanse disappeared from view, my world cast in shadow.

.

Do you know what it feels like to lose everything? To lose everything you've ever lived for? Do you know what it feels like to wake up, to wake up and realise that everything you had was gone? Do you know what it feels like to have everybody, absolutely everybody walk out on you?

I do.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, I'm nineteen years old and during June 2009 I was in a terrible accident.

My name is Bella Swan, and this is my story.

* * *

**Edward:**

The digital clock, with its eerie green numbers set deeply into the dashboard, was exactly four minutes and thirty-six seconds late. How did I know this? Because my phone, with its precise black numerals typed cleanly onto the screen, said it was exactly 07:43:06. And my phone, you see, was always right. Simply because.

I glanced at the offending numbers; the fact that I was going to be late again wouldn't reflect well on my future resumes and chances of promotion. Fucking milk.

I sat at the red light, my fingers drumming steadily to the silent beat. My heart thumped in time to my thoughts, loud and angry. I'm not usually an irrational man and skipping red-lights is not usually my thing, but for the record I admit that yes, I did run that light. And you have my full consent to throw my rotting corpse in jail.

I turned left, my breathing unusually fast. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I sped down the backstreets, closing my eyes briefly and smiling. I wound down my window a quarter of the way, letting the cool, fresh morning air circulate around the stuffy car. I took in a large gulp of oxygen, letting it swirl around my lungs as I reopened my eyes.

A thin voice carried on the breeze, humming a soft tune. Too high for a male, it was care-free and childish. I had a sudden, overwhelming mental image of a girl carrying a bunch of daffodils in her arms, smiling brightly up at the sun, eyes full of life.

I tapped my left foot absentmindedly to the tune of the singer before closing my eyes again, pushing my foot down harder on the accelerator. I breathed in the fresh air, but the magic was gone, tainted. My eyes automatically opened in frustration, the humming suddenly louder, stronger than the breeze that pooled through my open window.

I was just in time to slam on the brakes.

She was _right there,_ whistling along as she pushed merrily on with her bike. 'Fuck' I thought, swerving away from her. 'Fuck,' I thought again as I managed to clip her back wheel. 'Shit,' I whispered, eyes wide in horror, heart stopped, breathing thunderous as I slammed into one of the brick walls that stood alert on either side of the narrow lane.

I saw the girl fly off her bike, body spinning rapidly through the air. Her brown hair flew out behind her, limbs splayed like a dolls. I watched with wide, mortified eyes as she smashed forcefully back into the pavement.

All this happened in a matter of seconds whilst I waited patiently for my air-bag to inflate.

It didn't. My head slammed into the steering wheel.

_And the world went black._

Isabella Swan? I'm sorry.


	3. Sirens Be Our Saviour

_Both Twilight and the lyrics, 'Follow Me into the Darkness', belong to Meyer and Fightstar respectively._

_**Follow Me into the Darkness**_

**Bella:**

The people came for me. They came in sets of twos, their sirens loud in my ears, deafening, blocking out the rush of blood that ran through my body. They flashed their bright torches in my eyes, making odd clucking noises with their tongues.

Their faces were masked, uniformed, perfect facades. They bore no expression and my heart sunk: that had to be a bad sign.

A middle-aged woman began work on my chest; she had bright green hair, grey regrowth shooting through. I liked that she had green hair, it showed flare, it showed personality, it showed passion. It showed that she was a real person, that a robot wasn't administrating CPR on me. She pumped my chest forcefully, transferring her oxygen into my cracked, dry mouth.

I struggled to sit up, attempting to scatter the gravel that dug harshly into me. I imagined pushing the paramedic's face away. I imagined their cries of discovery when they realised that I was alive. I imagined doing all this, and that's simply all. Imagined.

I tried to move my muscles, to open my mouth and speak with them. I tried to stand up. I tried to run.

_I tried to forget._

_'Please!' _ I called out in my mind, I begged them, I begged them to listen. _'Please help me!'_  
But they didn't help me, instead they sighed, murmuring non-existent knowledge between each other.

_'Please,'_ I tried again, trying to force my lips to move, my tongue to form around the one syllable of pain. I felt my eyes attempting to form tears.

I couldn't even cry.

The lady with the green hair popped her head up, obscuring my view. She had a kind, soft face, it was trustworthy. I pleaded with her in my mind. She must surely have realised that I was a functioning, living, thinking being.  
Surely she could have ended this nonsense, I begged with my eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. They say that eyes show truth_. They say that eyes show life._I couldn't move a single muscle but surely, surely to God my eyes would permit at least a figment of emotion, of strength to shine through.

_Right?_

_'Plea-'_ I tried again; my voice weak even in my mind. What was happening? What was wrong with me?

A growing sense of thickness settled itself on me, I felt heavy, I felt dull, vague. Four paramedics came into my eyesight, carrying a white stretcher, the material stained slightly from blood. The stretcher was sagging down the bottom, as though supporting a weight. I strained my eyes, attempting to place the figure. It was a man, I decided. A male around my age was outlined against the fabric, a tuft of bronze hair emitting an odd glow. His right arm was hanging loosely down the side, as though thrown casually there. I attempted to swallow the bile that rose in my body, a thick blackness threatening to erupt throughout me. His face was turned towards me, his features the purest white. His green eyes were wide, bright, shining. For the love of God, could they not close the lids? Is that not more respectful? I peered closer, forcing my chestnut eyes to try harder.

And I saw it, and I knew. The same urgency was reflected in the black pupils, the green irises, as the brown of mine.

I saw a single word reflected in the boy's eyes, the one who sent me spinning off my bicycle, the one that sent me crashing down to earth. The one that sent me into this odd half-life.

'_Please.'_

* * *

**Edward:**

The sirens were deafening, the flashing of the lights blinding. I internally groaned. _Blue-red, blue-red, blue-red._ It's all I could concentrate on, the thunderous sirens exploding in my ears, echoing, vibrating around my skull.

It took me a few moments to remember the girl from the bike. A dull _thunk_ issued itself in my stomach as recognition dawned. Fuck.

I heard footsteps and for one, glorious moment I allowed myself to believe that it was the brunette, pale faced girl that had been thrown off her bike. '_Thrown off her bike because of you,'_ I reminded myself. My mind fantasized, how forcefully I wished that the girl was walking towards me, how forcefully I wished that she was okay.

It was around this time that the sirens, flashing lights and footsteps _clunked_ into place. It was around this time that I realised that I could not move. It was around this time that the people arrived, poking and probing my skull, whispering ill-advised words. It was around this time that a dull pain in the front right of my head became apparent.

It was around this time that I gave up hope.

_-follow me into the darkness and sink your fears into the night-_

I was . . . in an accident. And I hit a girl. Oh fuck, was the car damaged? It was a _rental,_ if I damaged it, did I have to pay for it? Better yet, could I sue them in damages for a malfunctioning airbag?

The people were shaking their heads, running their fingers across my chest, searching for a heartbeat. _'It's there,'_ I assured them.

I struggled to sit up. _Oh, shit_. I commanded my legs to propel me upwards, to force my hands to push me into a more comfortable position, to raise my head from where it had impacted the steering wheel.

I felt two strong arms wrap themselves securely around me, supporting my weight easily. They hoisted me from the red-stained seat. Only then did I notice the blood that was clouding my vision. The arms lifted me onto a stretcher. My head flopped to the side with a sickening crunch.

They whispered, the people rushing past, merely blurs of colour flashing before my eyes. Sounds erupted through my ears, but I did not hear them. The metallic scent of blood filled my nose but I did not smell it. I ignored everything but _her._The fabric coloured red from my blood. I was not fazed.

She was there, curled on the ground. Only the merest hint of her through the momentarily parted crowd. Her hair was thrust out around her, her left arm twisted at an impossible angle. I stared into her wide, brown eyes, mine filling with invisible tears.

_'Please,'_ I thought before a man in a purple shirt blocked our eye contact, standing harshly in the way.

_'Please forgive me,'_ I finished.


	4. And To Hope We Disperse

_I own neither these characters, nor the lyrics to 'One More Time With Feelings' – Meyer and Regina Spektor, respectively. _

**_Follow Me into the Darkness_**

**Bella: **

It's been twenty-two days since the accident. It's been five-hundred and twenty-eight hours of this existence.

.

There were three ambulances; I knew this because there were three flashing lights, blurring my vision, entombing my mind. A young man opened the back of one of the vehicles, beckoning my stretcher forward. He had a rough face; jaw cut crudely, eyes squared off. He appeared almost cruel.

The boy, the one who had hit me, was placed in a different ambulance. His blood stained the cement, tainting the air. I felt woozy, my eyes unable to focus properly. I didn't like this feeling – vision was the only thing I had going for me. My eyes seeing what my body could not protect.

A young, blonde girl was chucked in with me, a nervous expression gracing her face. She looked fidgety and she kept glancing down at my body. She can't have been much older than me, her face still retaining the childish roundness. Her name tag informed me that she was 'Amy.'

Amy looked around, almost guiltily, before reaching out to grab my hand. At first I attempted to struggle against her, before realising what she was doing. A lump swelled in my throat. _I'm not dying,_I comforted her in my mind.

Or so I presumed. Dead people didn't feel pain. Dead people didn't become trapped in their bodies – they moved on, to heaven or to blackness or to oblivion. Surely the buried aren't conscious beneath their coffins.

Her hand gripped mine, holding onto it like a mother would hold a child's. I felt safe. _'You're a good person,'_I informed her in my head. I should have tried harder. I should have tried harder to convey that yes; I was a living, breathing human being. I should have tried harder, but I didn't.

Instead I cried. I was awfully lonely, stuck in my own body, stuck in a motionless shell. It was quite disheartening to realise that for the first time in my life I was well and truly alone. I felt myself drowning with the sobs that wracked my body, drowning on the inside. Drowning in my mind.

The ambulance lurched over a pothole, sirens blaring sickeningly. I heard the second and third ambulance race behind us, one of which contained the boy. I gave a little lurch.

The boy.

Not only was it important to note that I didn't blame the boy, it was also important to note that not once had it actually _occurred_to me to blame him. I wasn't not entirely sure why, it was foolish really, but I guess I thought it was because we were in the same boat. Alive yet unable to move. Two lost souls stuck on the same voyage.

I knew the boy was living simply because he _was._It's like two trees, one wilted and brown, leaves decayed, rot covering the bark, a sense of dread surrounding the branches, a shell of what once was_._Then the second tree, radiant green leaves emitting a glow of life, smooth bark cool to the touch, shining alertly in the sun.

Neither tree is moving, no breeze ruffles their leaves. And yet you look at those trees and you just _know_the second one is living. The green leaves were like the boys eyes, you just _knew_somebody was in there.

_-one more time with feeling, try it again, breathing's just a rhythm, say it in your mind until you know that the words are right  
this is why we fight-_

* * *

**Edward:**

A brunette, thirty-ish year old man was thrown in the back of my ambulance. My ambulance. Funny how I claim it's mine. It's not really. Who owns ambulances? The hospital? The government? Some generous rich guy?

The man fiddled with a needle, then a tap, shortly after which he returned back to the needle before fidgeting with the sheet that covered me. He was flighty and I noticed that he avoided meeting my eyes. My heart sunk lower. I'd seen the crime shows, I'd seen the law shows, I'd seen the medical shows. No eye contact was bad news.

'_I'm not dead,'_I assured him.

A dull ache throbbed all over my body, more specifically my brain. Sharp pains would occasionally burst down my right-side, making me want to clench my teeth together in pain, to scream out in utter agony. I wanted someone to shove a blanket between my teeth, allowing me to bite down hard, to rid myself of the pent up frustration.

I wanted the fucking paramedic to acknowledge me; I wanted him to even merely, _accidentally_glance at me.

I hoped the bicycle riding, brown-eyed girl got a nice carer, someone who would offer warming smiles, someone who would stare deeply into her eyes and realise, just realise that somebody was in there. Because if it wasn't possible to notice the difference between living and a shell, what hope has anybody got?

My mind was trailing – I'd forgotten to pay the rent, and Julie would have most certainly needed that article by Monday, last week. And when was the last time I had fed Mrs. Velazquez's fish? And God help me if I'd missed the fortnightly call with my mother.

And it hit me, as I lay in the back of a speeding ambulance, aware yet not able to respond to my surroundings. It hit me, as I travelled towards an invisible hospital, sirens wailing. It hit me as my eyes bore into the paramedics face. It hit me, if I died right now, nobody would realise. And what's worse, if I died right now, nobody, _nobody_would give a flying shit.

And I thought to myself, I thought: '_what's the point?'_

_-and the misery inside their eyes is__ s__ynchronized and reflecting into yours  
this is why we fight  
this is why we fight-_


	5. Horrors We've Caused

'_I Can Feel a Hot One' belongs to Manchester Orchestra. Both the characters of Edward and Bella belong to Stephenie Meyer._

_**Follow Me into the Darkness**_

**Bella:**

Three nurses slammed me into the hospital's entrance, swinging me forcefully down the newly mopped halls, navigating the twists and turns with perfection. I felt one of them lay a gentle, cool hand on my arm whilst a lady dressed completely in blue wrote a note on a red clipboard. I wasn't sure of our destination, as we whizzed across the cream linoleum, but we sure as hell weren't holding back.

I felt the ground beneath me fly away, the three nurses panting loudly. I struggled to sit up, to speak, to move. I tried, I really did.

_-so I prayed for what I thought were angels, ended up being ambulances-_

I allowed the nurse's urgent yet soothing voices sweep over me, lulling me into a state of fractured sleep, bathing me with their cruel words. 'Accident-bicycle-Masen-helmet not clasped-time of death-'

What? _What? _I felt myself stirring, surging out of the heavy blackness; I tried to sit, to speak. _Don't give up, _I urged myself.

I struggled to lift the stifling blackness, the blackness that had begun to settle the moment I crashed into the ground, making my limbs heavy, my mind tired. _Don't. _I tried to open my eyes, the lids that somebody had closed without my knowledge. _Give. _I felt the drumbeat of my heart course through my veins, the dull ache forming all over my body, sinking lower, lower, lower. _Up._

And then it came surging forward.

* * *

**Edward:**

I gave up.


	6. The Humming Of His Marching

_Meyer owns Twilight. _

_**Follow Me into the Darkness**_

**Bella:**

My feet pound mercilessly into the ground, churning the clods of dirt beneath my toes. 'Please!' I sob, arms outstretched.

I watch the boy race between the trees up ahead, pale skin sparkling with sweat. His heavy breathing reaches my ears as his clumsy steps smash into the ground. 'Please!' I call again. I wipe the hair from my eyes, leaving a streak of dirt across my nose. I soar with grace through the air, heart hammering loudly throughout my body. _'Wait!' _I scream, my pale fingers reaching, reaching . . .

And I am almost, almost within reach. My thin, trembling fingers stretch for the boy's shirt, almost, almost . . .

Oh, how I try. My lungs are close to collapsing as, a hair's breadth away, I start to fall. 'Please!' I scream again.

And I am tumbling through the clear air, the greenery flashing past in varying shades of emerald and gold. My foot is caught on a root, my hair flaying around me, my hands still grasping for the bronze-haired man. I continue to free-fall, scream caught in throat, eyes wide.

My body slams into the ground, jolting my bones, and I roll twice. I stop before an ancient tree, its bark marred by the decades. The boy's footsteps echo in my ears as he surges forward, not looking back at the small, brown-eyed girl who has fallen. I watch as he pounds ahead, running in the distance, allowing the trees to swallow him up.

'Wait,' I scream once, pushing my arm out, attempting to bring him back by sheer mind power. 'Who are you?' I call. 'Where are you going?'

_'Please,'_ I whisper, voice cracking painfully. The rain cascades down to earth, mixing with the tears that run relentlessly down my face. All is quiet, the only image is that of a girl, sobbing silently, curled into a ball, horror etched upon her face.

* * *

Author's Note: _after two years of hiatus, it's probably safe to presume that this story is discontinued. The obvious tense change in this chapter was deliberate, though I'm not entirely sure as to what I had planned for the plot line. Bella was stuck in a sort of in-between place, (think Lovely Bones, though I assure you I started this before ever hearing of that novel), where she would eventually resurface from a comma-of-sorts. A fourteen-year-old's attempt at approaching the subject of death. Read it for the teh lulz.  
From reading the previous chapter, we can probably assume that Edward died. _


End file.
